A Change in the Tides
by JamesLuver
Summary: Anna and John try to enjoy themselves at the beach, but a conversation with Mrs. Hughes leads him to contemplate the issue of misunderstanding. Can he and Anna use the unexpected turn of events that arise to reassemble their lives properly?
1. The Cure of Saltwater

**A/N:** This has no bearing on any series five spoilers because although posted in September, it was finished in February, before filming started. It's a bit far-fetched, but so is Fellowes.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Downton Abbey_.

* * *

_A Change in the Tides_

_1\. The Cure of Saltwater_

"Here we go, then. A penny lick for my dear husband."

John smiled as Anna returned to his side, holding the treat out in front of her with a wide grin upon her face. Her eyes danced as she watched him take hold of it, and he managed to shift it into his left hand while offering her his arm again. She giggled at that, taking the offer, standing close to his side.

"Don't let it melt," she said.

"I have no intention to. Let's find somewhere to sit."

"Have I tired you out already?" she teased, but seemed happy to comply. Together they strolled along the length of the beach, searching for a quiet spot a little way away from the others. While they certainly liked their colleagues very much, it was rare for them to spend any leisure time away from the village like this together, and John was determined to make the most of it while he could.

"Here seems like a good spot," said Anna. She was right: it was sheltered by the cliff face from the brisk breeze, and they had a very good view of the rest of the beach. John tossed his cane to the sand, releasing his hold on Anna while she spread the blanket that she had stolen from the servants' picnic basket en route. She settled herself down on it while he waited, and then he followed suit. She turned her head respectfully to glance out at the sea, obviously not wishing to dent his pride as he struggled like an old man. He was grateful for that, snugging his arm around her waist when he'd made himself comfortable. She leant in to him, resting her head against his shoulder. Her hat was getting in the way, digging rather painfully into his neck, but he couldn't mind in the slightest. She looked peaceful today, a sight that had become so rare over the last year. A sight that cut through his heart.

"It's so nice out here," she said happily, eyes scanning the vicinity. "I'm glad Mr. Carson chose here instead of one of those other stuffy places he was championing."

John chuckled. "I would have thought that you would have been interested."

"I never said I wasn't. But Mr. Carson as a tour guide?" She wrinkled her nose. "The fun would have been sucked right out of it. Can you imagine?"

Her expression was exquisite, and another spell of laughter bubbled inside him. God, he had missed her sharp wit and her beautiful sass and everything that had made her his Anna. For so long it had been muted, buried alive. At one time he had wondered if she would ever regain that fire. He was glad to see it fighting its way back now, even if only for short bursts at a time.

"Who would have made a better tour guide than Mr. Carson?" he said, trying to keep a straight face. "I imagine him to be very good indeed. You'd know the history of the royal family in great detail by the end of any tour, I'm quite sure."

"Well…" Anna drew the word out, as though she was mulling over her answer very hard. "I can think of one person who might have been a very good tour guide."

"Oh? Who's that, then?"

She tilted her head to the side, chin jutting. "He's a very clever man. He's built his knowledge through reading. He's got a lovely, soothing voice that you just have to listen to. And…" She leaned in conspiratorially, lips brushing his ear. "…He's a very handsome man too."

John's heart leapt in his chest, and he felt himself flush a deep red. Anna leant back, obviously satisfied, patting his thigh.

"Yes," she continued. "Mr. Molesley would have been perfect."

The little minx. He should have expected it really—the devilish light shining in her eyes was always a warning sign. Growling playfully, he squeezed her side, drawing her even closer.

"What did you say?" he said.

Her own arm came around him, anchoring them together. "You heard me."

He opened his mouth for a moment, intent on making a quip about the attentions of other men, before freezing. That was the sort of thing he could have said before. Not now.

Before. After. The labels would always exist, the neat little boxes that their lives together could be packed into. Such cold, scientific boxes. As if their whole life didn't revolve around them.

He'd soured his own mood at the realisation of his potential carelessness, instead clearing his throat and turning away. He had a second to spy Anna's hurt expression before he closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly shut. In the next moment her hand was on his face, the lace of her glove rubbing against his cheek.

"John?" she said. "Are you all right?"

He forced the best smile he could. "Yes. It's nothing. I'm fine."

She frowned. "No, it's something—"

"Nothing to worry about," he said firmly.

She wilted a little, casting her eyes downward. He hadn't meant to sound so harsh. He hadn't meant to make her feel as if it was her fault again. She was wont to blame herself whenever he was pensive or quiet, and he wished she wouldn't. Nothing could ever be her fault, and he wouldn't blame her for a single thing that had transpired that dark night. _He_ was to blame. He should have looked after her, should have never have let her out of his sight when he'd clocked Green's overt flirting.

Heaving a weary sigh, he reached out and tentatively closed his hand over hers. "I'm sorry."

"You were thinking about it again, weren't you?"

Her small voice took him by surprise, and he glanced down at her. Her own gaze was averted from his, following the movement of her foot as she dug her heel into the sand. He couldn't answer her. She'd know that he was lying. The silence stretched on.

"You know," she said after a few moments, "I was having a nice time until now. I was having fun."

"I've spoiled it for you."

"No," she said fiercely. "It wasn't _you_. But I don't want to let it spoil it anymore. I'm tired of it. Please, John. I just want us to enjoy a normal day together. Is that too much to ask for?"

"No," he said quickly. "Of course it isn't."

Silence reigned for a few more moments before she nudged him, smiling tremulously. "Your penny lick will have melted if you don't hurry up and eat it."

John glanced down at the glass flute he was holding. She was right: the vanilla ice cream inside was looking decidedly soupy. Lips returning her smile, he held the glass between them.

"Why don't we share it?" he said.

Her eyes lit up a little at that. He knew how sweet her tooth was. "All right. I'd like that."

He let her go first, holding it in front of her while she bent her head and extended her tongue. Leisurely, she began to lap at the ice cream, humming in delight. He watched her softly, his heart swelling in his chest. The sweet innocence emanated from her. He was glad that it hadn't all been taken away.

Presently, she lifted her head, licking the trace of ice cream from her bottom lip. "Now your turn." Tenderly, she held the glass for him, and he obediently mirrored her actions, closing his eyes and shivering involuntarily at the thought of his tongue tracing the places that hers had been only seconds before. It was cold enough to hurt his teeth, but he had his fill, hand coming up to cup Anna's gently, drawing it away.

"Do you want the rest?" he asked.

She giggled a little, her gaze flickering across his face. "Well, I'm not sure if I want all of it, but I'd quite like a little more."

He offered her the pot again, but she pushed it down. He frowned as she moved her hand towards his face instead, her thumb coming to brush against the swell of his cheek. He was about to ask what the matter was when she began to lean closer. He caught the scent of her skin—light perfume, delicate sweat, the tang of sea salt—and lost all ability of speech.

And then her lips were on the corner of his mouth, sucking just lightly, and he couldn't keep his eyes open. He struggled to contain the moan that bubbled in his throat, staying stock-still. Anna turned her head more fully, and her lips covered his completely. He couldn't resist kissing her back after that, the delicate movement of her lips too tempting. He made sure to keep the pressure of his mouth light, butterfly brushes, catching her bottom lip between both of his and nibbling just lightly on it. Anna's breath stuttered, and she pulled away from him with a ragged sigh, pressing her forehead against his chin. Her hat dug painfully into his face, but he said nothing, wrapping his arm more firmly around her waist.

"Well, that was certainly a nice bit of ice cream," she said, and he felt her shoulders shaking. She was laughing.

"It was a very nice surprise," he agreed, nudging her back a little.

"And now I've got an even better one," she beamed.

John delighted in seeing her face so bright and pure, void of all troubles. He would do anything to see it continue. "Oh? What's that, then?"

She pushed herself to her feet gracefully, towering above him for once. He couldn't stop his own smile at that, craning his head backwards so that he could keep her face in sight.

"We're going for a paddle in the sea," she said. "We can't come to the seaside and not do that."

If she'd told him that they were going to swim naked he would have done it, but he was enjoying the light in her eyes and wanted to prolong it for as long as possible. So, tilting his chin, he cast a lazy eye over her, leaning back.

"And what if this old man doesn't want to risk the treacherous journey to the sea?" he said. "It could be quite perilous with my cane."

The way her eyes danced reassured him that she knew he was only teasing, but she folded her arms across her chest all the same, continuing on with their game. "Mr. Bates, I can see Mr. Carson down in the water with Mrs. Hughes. If even he can do it, then you have no excuse."

"But Mr. Carson was no doubt railroaded into it by Mrs. Hughes," he pointed out. "And she's quite the force of nature."

Anna stood straighter, towering over him even more. "And you don't think I am?"

He chuckled lowly, refusing to answer. Of course his Anna was a force of nature—he knew they wouldn't have come as far as they had in the last decade without her being one—but he was quite enamoured by the seemingly indignant air now surrounding her.

"Well," she said, "if that's how you're going to play it, then perhaps I'll convince you to come along with me in a different manner. We don't all need to railroad our men to get them to do what we want."

"Then please," he said, a challenging lilt to his tone, "convince me."

She held his stare for a moment, before stepping nearer, reaching down for his hand. He linked their fingers together firmly, making sure to keep his weight off her as he heaved himself to his feet. Her eyes glowed as they returned to their normal statures, and without loosening her grip in the slightest, she rose up on her tiptoes, meeting his mouth in a kiss. His eyelids fluttered at the contact, and he waited until he felt the swipe of her tongue against his bottom lip before opening up, his spare hand sliding down to cup her hip and draw her closer. He followed the pace of her mouth faithfully, suppressing a little moan in the back of his throat when her tongue touched his.

At last, she drew back, cheeks pink. "Did that convince you?"

He couldn't stop his grin, squeezing her hand tight. "Yes, it did."

* * *

John shivered as the waves lapped at his feet, curling his toes in the sand. He'd rolled his trousers to just below his knees, leaving his stockings with his shoes further up the beach, out of danger of being swept away on the tide. Anna's smaller shoes were beside his, her own stockings stuffed into them to keep them safe. She was a few paces in front of him, skirts hiked scandalously high. Several strands of hair had fallen loose from her bun, whipping around her face. She looked beautiful. She held out her hand to him, just waiting for him to take it. He raised an eyebrow, staying put.

"Come on," she whined, evidently growing impatient with his dawdling. "The fish aren't going to bite you."

"I hope there are no fish in such shallow waters," he said good-humouredly. "Otherwise there wouldn't be even the slightest chance of me joining you there."

She paused for a moment. "What? Don't tell me you're really afraid of _fish_?"

"Don't tell me you aren't," he countered.

She shot him a confused look. "Of course not."

"The way they swim and stare doesn't unnerve you?"

She stared flummoxed for a moment before breaking into peals of laughter, the sound ringing out and carrying away on the wind. He couldn't help smirking too, pleased that he'd made her giggle again. She sloshed through the water towards him, grabbing hold of his hand and linking their fingers firmly together.

"Stop teasing me," she said.

"Who says I was teasing?"

"Well, you can't have been serious. That's the silliest thing I've ever heard in my life."

He pretended to growl at that, squeezing her hand tighter. "You won't be saying that when one comes and tries to take a chunk out of your lovely legs."

"John, they can't bite!"

"Those exotic Indian fish do."

"Yes, in _India_," she said, amused. "We're standing in the North Sea on the edge of Brighton. And it's also bleedin' cold, so I suggest we start to move before we lose our toes."

"You were the one who wanted to do this," he pointed out, taking a step forward with her anyway. "I was quite content to stay sitting up there with my penny lick."

She huffed in frustration, tugging more insistently. "John, really. Stop being so childish."

He winced as a slightly larger wave came rolling in, breaking across the middle of his calves. "All right. If you insist."

"I do," she said.

"Then I have no choice. I'm coming in."

He clutched her hand more tightly as he took his second cautious step forward. The shifting sand beneath his toes made him feel even more unstable, thanks to the absence of his cane. But Anna's hand was a welcome anchor, helping to keep him grounded. In two wobbling steps he was standing close by her side, their joined hands pressed securely against their thighs.

"There," she said. "It's not so bad, is it?"

"You're with me," he returned. "It could never be bad."

He was pleased to see the slight blush spill across her cheeks, and she stepped closer to him so that the side of her right foot brushed against the side of his left. The breath left his throat at the tiniest bit of contact, and he glanced down to find her staring up at him with the most unfettered adoration in her eyes. He swallowed hard.

"Come on," he said thickly. "Let's move a little further out."

"I thought you were scared?" she teased.

"Not scared. Apprehensive. But I know I have nothing to fear. After all, you're with me."

"You don't half try and charm me," she said, but he could still see the pleased glow in her cheeks and knew she appreciated the comment no matter how she might protest. "Come on, you silly beggar."

He followed her willingly enough, the water sloshing and churning around them as they ventured further into the sea. It was certainly cold even for the reasonably warm day, and he couldn't help shuddering as it lapped further and further up his legs, making his hairs stand on end. Anna seemed to be coping better than he was, moving out in front of him and turning so that she was directly in his face, never letting go of his hand.

"Thank you for this," she said.

"Why? Spending time with you is no great hardship."

Her eyes darkened for the briefest of moments, and he was just about to start cursing himself for being so tactless when the smile brightened her face, and she tugged him closer, so quickly that he almost stumbled over. "That's very kind of you to say, Mr. Bates."

"You're most welcome, Mrs. Bates."

They stood in silence for a few moments longer before Anna sighed, tilting her head back. "It's so beautiful, isn't it?"

"It is on nice days," he agreed. "I'm not sure how pleasant it is in the winter."

"No, it's lovely," she decided. "So majestic and powerful. I love it here."

His heart contracted in his chest, and he instinctively tightened his hold on her. Perhaps one day he'd be able to give her this, give her the world. One day _soon_. The dream of their little hotel still burned within him. It had flickered in the weeks and months after that bastard's attack, had, for a time, been buried, a skeletal frame left to rot in the ground, but somehow it had survived, had fought its way free, still flickered. He would be damned if he let anything else take that away from them.

He was so lost in thought that it came as a shock when the droplets of water splattered onto his face and the front of his vest. Flinching, he shook his head to find Anna grinning at him, eyes dancing with mirth. The saltwater stung a little, but he couldn't stop his own lips from furling into a smile. God, he had missed this side of her. He had missed it so much.

"What was that for?" he asked as a droplet slid down his chin and disappeared down the neck of his collar.

"You looked far too pensive for my liking," she retorted. "I had to bring you back to me somehow."

"And that was the only way?"

"Well, we're a bit too close to the others for me to dare to kiss you."

"You've kissed me at Downton before."

"Yes, without anyone knowing. We might kill Mr. Carson off if we dared to do it in front of everyone."

He chuckled. He couldn't argue with that. "Still, it wasn't a very pleasant experience. I've a good mind to pay you in kind."

"Have you now?" She fluttered her eyelashes at him, and his heart caught mid-beat. "Go on, then."

There was a challenge in the jut of her jaw, and John couldn't resist. It had been absent for so long. He needed to chase it. Without warning he jerked on their joined hands, pulling her forward. She shrieked in surprise, and then gasped with dismay as he moved his spare hand into the water and splashed it down the front of her dress. He cursed under his breath as he watched her blink, the material beginning to cling. He hadn't meant to get quite so zealous. He'd only wanted to send a few specks her way, not a bloody tidal wave.

"Oh, God," he said, "I'm so sorry."

She didn't speak for a few moments, and John feared that he'd made her angry. But then a lazy smile drifted across her face.

"Well, Mr. Bates," she said. "I think you'll have to pay for that."

He was so relieved to see her smile that he didn't immediately register her words. Not until it was too late.

Water splashed down his front and he hissed at its chill, almost stumbling over. Anna burst into peals of giggles as he shook his head, droplets of water flying every which way.

"Mr. Bates, need a hand with your wife?"

They both turned towards the shore. Jimmy was standing there with Mr. Molesley and Miss Baxter. The younger lad's eyes were glowing with the promise of mischief. John glanced down at Anna. Her eyes were wide.

"Don't you dare," she whispered. "He'll cause mayhem."

"There's no bargaining with me now, Mrs. Bates," he smirked. "There is no such thing as honour in war." Louder, he called to Jimmy, "I might just take you up on that offer."

The footman gave a battle cry and charged into the water. John winced as more water sloshed over him.

Miss Baxter called from the shore, "If Mr. Bates gets extra help then so does Mrs. Bates." She turned to prod Mr. Molesley in the chest. "You and I are enemies now." The poor man looked quite terrified.

Anna turned to smirk at her husband. "Well, Mr. Bates, this really does look like it means war."

"I'll have you know that I'm an expert."

"You'll have to prove that to me."

"Oh, believe me, I look forward to it."

Jimmy pulled a face, splashing them both with water. "Please, stop it."

Anna blushed and giggled, raising her eyebrow at John. He returned the expression as Mr. Molesley and Miss Baxter reached their sides. Jimmy was the first to make a move, splashing water in a high arc and successfully soaking both of the women. They struck back, and soon the air was rife with shrieks and splashes.

More and more of the servants joined when they realised what was happening. Thomas seemed to be most intent on splashing Miss Baxter with more viciousness than was required, and Mr. Molesley appeared to have deserted them for the opposition as he retaliated in kind towards Thomas. Daisy and Ivy shrieked and cowered as the hall boys and Mr. Slade targeted them, and even Mrs. Patmore joined in, laughing manically as she took the unsuspecting lads out from behind.

John noticed these things, but he barely registered them. His focus was entirely on Anna. She looked radiant. Water dripped from her dress. He could see strands of wet hair plastered to the sides of her face. Her cheeks glowed rosy with exertion and laughter. Her eyes shone. She had not looked this alive for more than a whole year. He basked in it, the sunshine returning to his life.

"What's the matter, Mr. Bates?" she panted. "Are you tiring?"

He growled good-naturedly, grabbing her around the waist. "I'll show you who's tiring, my dear."

She squealed and wriggled in his grasp, slapping his upper arm with her palm, soaking his shirt further. They almost toppled over as they tussled, but even as Anna giggled freely, John felt his whole body freeze as he processed just what was happening.

He was holding onto her. She was pushing against him. He was trying to _force_ her—

No. _No_. Eyes wide and heart pounding sickeningly, he released his grip on her and stumbled back a few paces. The noise of the others faded to a dull roar as his world began to collapse.

Anna frowned at him, face so innocent, yet another trace of hurt threading through her voice. "What's wrong, Mr. Bates?" The hurt was worth it if it meant that she hadn't realised what he had.

He still had to think of a reply, a lie. He opened his mouth, fruitlessly searching for the right words—

"What on _earth_ is going on here!?"

The booming voice cut through the entire party. Silence fell abruptly. John turned with the rest of them towards the newcomer, dread flowing through his veins.

Mr. Carson.

The stalwart butler was almost purple with anger and indignation. The wind blew gently, children shrieked in the background, the sea continued to whoosh and the gulls squawked and swooped, and still the terrible silence continued.

"What—I have never—the honour of Downton—" Mr. Carson was spluttering, never a good sign. Beside John, Anna shrank back, as though hiding behind him would lessen the explosion that would surely follow.

"What is the meaning of this?" Mrs. Hughes spoke up at last when it became clear that Mr. Carson could not make a coherent sentence.

John kept his eyes trained on the flowing water, reluctant to put himself forward and into the butler's line of fire, but Jimmy seemed to have no such qualms. "It's just a bit of fun, Mrs. Hughes."

"A bit of _fun_!?" Mr. Carson roared, evidently finding his voice in the face of such offensiveness.

"I thought that that was the whole point of the day out," the young footman shrugged.

"The whole point of the day out was to enjoy yourself in a _civilised _manner!" thundered Mr. Carson. "_Not_ to behave as if you're no better than heathens!"

He drew himself up to his full height, piercing eyes sweeping over John. He lowered his, unable to hold the gaze, and felt Anna tuck herself further into his back. This was his fault.

"As for you, Mr. Barrow, Mr. Bates, Mr. Molesley, Miss Baxter, Mrs. Patmore, Anna…" John felt Anna wilt as she realised that her hiding had been in vain. "I expected better from you. _All_ of you. You are trusted senior members of staff, and I was relying on you to set a good example to all. I have never been more disappointed in any of you. Now get out and collect your things. We're going straight back to London. You'll have to suffer through being wet on the train and embarrassing yourselves, but it's the least you deserve for bringing shame to Downton."

With that, he turned and stormed away, muttering something about childishness and the reputation of the Crawley family. The group in the water waited until he was a fair distance away before trickling out, evidently not wishing to have the butler's wrath channelled on them. Jimmy was the first to leave, hands in his pockets, looking as if the entire scolding had gone straight over his head. Thomas followed quick on his heels, and then Mrs. Patmore, who looked as if she was fighting back a smirk.

"Well, I think it was worth it," John heard her say to Mrs. Hughes as she passed. "I felt like a girl again, make no mistake."

Mrs. Hughes chuckled in answer, and John relaxed. At least the housekeeper didn't seem as angry as the butler. He turned towards Anna, lips quirking feebly. "Are you ready to go?"

She peered up at him from under the brim of her hat, chewing on her lip. "All right." She slipped her arm into his and they moved towards the shore, Anna keeping her head low when they reached Mrs. Hughes.

"I'll go and find the blanket we left up there," she mumbled, hurrying off. The back of her neck burned red.

Mrs. Hughes laughed again as she watched her go. "Anna's not used to being scolded."

John had to smile. That was very true. Anna was diligent and hardworking and kind to everyone. It was one of her strengths—and one of her flaws. His smile faded.

Mrs. Hughes must have noticed his expression, because she tapped him warmly on the arm. "Come on, let's join the others. You all make a sorry state, I must say."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hughes," he said. "This was all my fault."

"You can't be blamed for everything that goes wrong in the world, Mr. Bates."

"I can be this time. I started it with Anna. And I encouraged Jimmy to join in. I'll apologise to Mr. Carson when we get back."

"I'd keep quiet, if I were you. He'll be all right once the shock has worn off." The housekeeper's eyes were affectionate as she stared into the distance.

They were quiet for a few paces. John glanced down at her. She was twisting her hands together, taking deep breaths. He slowed his pace.

"Mrs. Hughes, do you have something to say?" he asked kindly.

She glanced around to make sure that they were alone, stopping entirely. "Anna looked happy today."

"I like to think so, yes. It's been a long time coming."

"I would hate to see the smile leave her face again."

The words hung ominously between them, as suffocating as a war zone. John shifted from foot to foot. "Mrs. Hughes, is there something you're trying to tell me?"

For long, suspended seconds that seemed to last whole lifetimes, she said nothing. And then she took a deep breath, her voice quiet. "I discovered the ticket in the pocket of the coat that Anna gave to me, Mr. Bates. The one that was issued for London."

The blood in his veins congealed into frozen lumps. "What?"

"I didn't know what to do," Mrs. Hughes continued, as though she hadn't heard him. "So I showed it to Lady Mary. She was very…concerned about it. I tried to make her see reason, but…" She chewed on her bottom lip uncertainly. "Well, I'm not sure what she intends to do. I don't think _she _does. But I just had to warn you because…because…"

"I know what you're thinking." Dear God, he felt sick. "You think that I killed him."

Mrs. Hughes' head shot up at his words. She looked as though she had aged ten years in the wake of her confession. John looked her full square in the face, desperate to make her see. She was scared, he realised. Terrified of facing up to the truth.

"I didn't do it. You have to believe me. I swear to you, Mrs. Hughes."

"Then why the ticket? Why the secrecy?"

"I did go down to London," he admitted. "But not for that reason. I knew…" He swallowed the gritty lump in his throat with difficulty. "I knew who had done it to Anna, no matter how many times she swore blind that it was a stranger. I was afraid of her being anywhere in London, when that animal could be anywhere. But I had other business to attend to too."

"Like what? What business?"

He toyed with a wet cuff, casting his eyes down. "Gwen. She said in her latest letter before then that her husband's work was taking him to London. They're currently renting a property but they want to buy somewhere outright. When I heard, I thought I would make enquiries as to their requirements. I have my mother's house in London, and we've been toying with the idea of selling for a while. I thought it was a good opportunity."

"You went to London to see _Gwen_?"

"Yes, truly, Mrs. Hughes. Write and ask her if you don't believe me."

"But why on earth keep it a secret for so long?"

"I didn't want to. But I saw Anna's face when the news was announced. I saw the way she looked at me. And I thought that admitting to being anywhere near London that day would spell the end. You didn't see her face, Mrs. Hughes." His voice cracked like glass in the cold over those last words. "You didn't see it."

"But surely she would have understood—"

"No, she wouldn't." There was little doubt in his mind. If Anna had any true inkling that he had been involved in that bastard's death somehow, then it would have been as good as the end of the trust between them. Those words, her pleadings for him not to do anything stupid, were forever scoured into his eardrums. There was no escaping them, that terrified tone. He couldn't have borne to watch the faith leech from her eyes for good.

"It is not for me to judge," Mrs. Hughes said quietly. "Lord have mercy, but I wouldn't have blamed you if you had done it. He was a foul creature. But Lady Mary is less convinced. I thought it was only right that you're warned now in case…in case she's done anything stupid."

He felt as if he'd been doused with the icy sea once more. To return to prison…it was unthinkable. He had the proof of his whereabouts that day, a staunch alibi, but the mere thought of prison made him sweat. And what of Anna?

As if reading his thoughts, Mrs. Hughes, squeezed his arm. "As soon as we return to Downton, I'll seek Lady Mary out and correct her of her mistake. There's no need to show me proof, Mr. Bates, I believe you. But I think you should speak with Anna while you can, clear things up. The past cannot be changed but I see no reason for the future to be muddied by more secrets. You should know that better than anyone."

He did, was painfully aware of it. He had been crippled by secrets in the past, weighed down to the point of drowning. Anna had cut him free and nursed him back to health. He had tried to do the same for her in the months since the attack. But perhaps Mrs. Hughes was right. Perhaps the last barrier—the truth about London—was what was really needed to set them back on track. He wasn't naïve—he knew that he would be haunted for the rest of his life by his terrible, terrible failings—but he owed Anna that much at least.

"Perhaps you're right," he murmured.

Mrs. Hughes looked like she was going to say more, but they were interrupted by Anna's return. She had the blanket under her arm, her cheeks still rosy from the brisk wind. She presented a bright smile to the housekeeper before offering the blanket to John.

"Here," she said, "wrap it round your shoulders."

"You should keep it," he protested. "I'll be all right."

"Nonsense. I started to dry off with the walk."

Mrs. Hughes excused herself with a smile, evidently amused by their light bickering. John half-wished that she would stay, act as a barrier between him and his wife. He wasn't sure that he was ready to face her just yet.

Sure enough, she seemed to know that something was wrong, slipping her arm into his and gazing up into his face with doe-eyed worry. "John, what's wrong? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

He tried to force a smile, though the muscles in his face seemed reluctant to move. "It's not a conversation for here."

"But we'll talk about it when we get back to London?" she pressed.

He thought it might be too late then for such a potentially heavy subject, but he nodded nonetheless. "Yes, all right."

She squeezed his arm, risked pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I _have_ had a lovely time today. I hope you know that."

"I'm glad of it."

They strolled at a leisurely pace behind the rest of the others as they meekly began to pack up their things. Most of them kept at a safe distance away from Mr. Carson on the walk, not wishing to incur his wrath any more than was necessary, and John kept even further back with Anna, wanting to savour his last few moments alone with her while he still could.

At the train station, they clustered onto the platform like herded sheep, waiting for their train to come in. John led the way over to a little bench, settling on it with Anna by his side. He sighed as he stretched out his leg in front of him, resisting the urge to rub at the gnawing ache in his knee. Anna bit her lip in concern, her hand hovering over him.

"Is it very bad?" she asked.

"Nothing I can't handle," he reassured her. "If only we were at home. A hot bath would put it right as rain."

"Maybe I can rub it," she said lowly. "That might ease the tension."

He tried to temper down the little flare of heat he felt at her words, clearing his throat instead and turning away to gaze out across the platform. The train was due in another half an hour. He wasn't looking forward to a rickety journey packed in with the others like sardines.

At least, that was what he'd been thinking just before the portly little station master waddled out onto the platform. He cleared his throat loudly several times until the whole place fell silent, then swelled with self-importance as he announced, "I'm terribly sorry, ladies and gentleman, but there has been an accident on the train line. I'm afraid that there are going to be severe delays."

"Delays?" thundered Mr. Carson. "Of how _long_?"

The station master turned towards him with an air of righteousness. "No trains will be passing on this line until tomorrow morning at the earliest."

Mr. Carson looked as if he would have keeled over had it not been for Mrs. Hughes' steadying hand on his arm. "Tomorrow morning!?"

"That is what I said, sir."

The stunned silence stretched on and on, broken only by Mrs. Hughes' thick Scottish brogue.

"Well well," she said. "It appears as if we're stranded."


	2. Flood to Fortune

_2\. Flood to Fortune_

John grunted as a stray elbow poked him in the back, sheltering Anna more fully in front of him. The majority of the staff were currently squashed into the front lobby of one of the hotels on the pier. They had trekked over most of the town on the way back from the station in the vain hope that one of the inns would be able to put them up for the night, and they had finally found one just as the afternoon was dying.

The family in London was aware of the situation now. Mr. Carson had made a panicked phone call as soon as the station master had relayed the news to them. Mrs. Hughes had listened in on the conversation and said that his lordship was very understanding of the situation, but this did little to assuage Mr. Carson's ire. He was acting as though this was their punishment for misbehaving on the beach. Jimmy commented less than quietly that a night off from work was a bloody reward, not a punishment.

The innkeeper peered over her glasses at the crowd in front of her. "We'll have enough rooms if you're prepared to share for the night. Other than that, there's nothing I can do."

"We'll take it," Mrs. Hughes said before Mr. Carson could open his mouth. "It's better than nothing."

"I suppose so," the butler sighed. He turned to them. "Get yourselves paired up."

Anna turned, raising her eyebrows. "So, Mr. Bates. What do you say?"

He nodded even as he smirked. "You are a daring soul."

"I've been without you the entire season. I don't think anyone could begrudge me that."

"Then I would be honoured to share your room."

She leaned closer, her voice so low he wasn't sure if he really heard her or not. "And my bed."

The heat was back, simmering tepidly. But before he could think of some reply to her cheek, Mr. Carson interrupted them. "Mr. Bates, I do not trust Mr. Barrow and James together, so you shall accompany one of them. Mr. Molesley shall share with the other."

Disappointment flared in his stomach. Not that he'd really expected anything different. It would be scandalous if he and Anna shared a room. Mr. Carson was not aware of how tentative their relationship was; he would assume that they would be committing outrageous acts as soon as they got through the door, and he obviously did not want them to leave the wrong impression on the younger members of staff. It was understandable, but it was frustrating. They were away from the confines of London, a married couple at the seaside, and yet they still couldn't be together. He was beginning to despise the season.

However, before he could murmur his consent, Mrs. Hughes once again jumped in. "Really, Mr. Carson, is that necessary?"

The butler turned his gaze on her. "What?"

"Surely Mr. Bates is not required to keep an eye on Mr. Barrow or James? Mr. Barrow is a grown man, and James isn't a bad lad."

"What are you suggesting? That Mr. Bates should share with Mr. Molesley?"

She cast them a sidelong glance that made John's ears burn. "I don't see what the harm would be, allowing Anna and Mr. Bates to share a room. They are married, after all." She'd obviously heard every word of their muted conversation.

Mr. Carson blinked rapidly. "You cannot be serious."

"Of course I am," said Mrs. Hughes.

"No. I won't allow it."

She crossed her arms across her chest. John wished he wasn't so close. It was uncomfortable, listening to them discussing his and Anna's situation while they were standing right there. "Mr. Carson, your values are something to be respected at Downton and in London, and lord knows I agree with you, but we aren't there now. Surely you can see that it's not fair to keep them apart at a time such as this."

"I can't believe I'm listening to this. It could encourage any lapse in the younger maids—"

"Oh, come now, Mr. Carson," said Thomas silkily. John wasn't entirely comfortable with the smugness of that voice. "I doubt very much that people aren't aware of what Mr. Bates and Anna get up to when they're alone in their little love nest."

"We all know what marriage makes legal," Jimmy piped up, oblivious to Mr. Carson's thunderous expression. "None of it's a mystery to us."

Surprisingly, even Daisy remained quiet. When had the girl learned about the intimate points of life? John's collar felt tight with embarrassment. Anna looked as hot-cheeked as he felt.

But, through some sheer miracle, it appeared to succeed. Mr. Carson's throat worked fruitlessly for a few moments before he let out a resigned growl. "Oh, very well then. Anna and Mr. Bates may share. But _only_ for tonight. And if this inspires any spells of mad passion in any of the others then I will hold you responsible, Mrs. Hughes." He stormed off then with as much dignity as he could muster. Mrs. Hughes seemed unaffected, chuckling lightly.

"Well, there you are then," she said. "There's your permission."

Anna's eyes shone, her smile wide. Blinding. "Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. We're really grateful—"

"Hush, girl. Now, just get up those stairs and get a good night's sleep. Enjoy each other's company while you can." Her eyes twinkled impishly. "But not too much, or Mr. Carson will have my head." She left them then with the swish of her skirts.

Anna giggled, nudging him gently in the stomach. "Don't look so shocked."

John shook his head, nonplussed. "Did…did she just make an oblique reference to what I think she did?"

"I told her about us," she confessed after a quick glance around. "She wanted to know how I was…progressing. I didn't go into details, but…" She blushed again. "You don't mind, do you?"

He couldn't deny that it was strange, having Mrs. Hughes know details about his private life that ordinarily he would share with no one else. But Anna needed a confidante after all she had endured, and the housekeeper was the perfect choice, kind and gentle and yet firm and down to earth. And she could be trusted. "No, I don't mind. That's the truth."

She smiled at him, giving his hand a squeeze. "I'll fetch the key. Wait here."

He watched her go, watched the fluidity that she moved with, a trait that had been absent for so long. He admired the strength in her back and the square in her shoulders. He was still staring when she returned to him, and she blushed prettily.

"Mr. Bates, you're gawking," she murmured.

"I can't help it when I have such a vision in front of me."

She rolled her eyes, but he saw her biting back a grin. "Come on, we're on the second floor. Let's go up."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, and followed her out of the lobby.

A whole evening stretched ahead of them, and though he felt an irrational twinge of fear at the prospect, he still couldn't be happier.

* * *

John leaned his forearm against the window frame, gazing at the outside world. They had been lucky with their room; it offered an absolutely breath-taking view of the sea. It roared and crashed against the pier, suddenly violent. A tempestuous rage that roiled never far below the surface. John closed his eyes, turned away, focused instead on the light patter of water coming from the bathroom. They had been delighted to learn that the rooms boasted showers—_actual _showers—and Anna was currently luxuriating there. He could hear her humming.

He crossed the room and sank down onto the plush mattress, kicking off his shoes so he didn't dirty the bed sheets. His fingers worked unconsciously on his tie and collar as he assessed their cosy surroundings. A fire crackled merrily in the grate. Anna had set it going before heading off to shower. The majority of her clothes were arranged round it in the hopes that they would be dry before morning broke.

The room was pretty, and extremely serviceable. It was the kind of room that he might have liked their hotel to possess. John ruffled his hand through his hair, standing up to unbutton his waistcoat.

There was a knock.

He paused in the middle of shedding the clothing. Who on earth was that? Mr. Carson had forbidden them all from going down to dinner, stating that he absolutely refused to allow them to be seen in public in such a bedraggled state. They were to go to bed with no supper like chastised children. If it was Mr. Carson himself, well, he would likely have a heart attack if he went to the door already half-undressed. He would jump to the wrong conclusion entirely.

The knocking came again, more impatient this time.

Nothing else for it.

John limped around the bed, opening it just enough to peer through.

"Blimey, I thought you were never answering!"

John sighed with relief at the sight of Mrs. Patmore and opened the door wider. "Hello."

"Hello," the little cook responded. Her eyes danced mischievously. "Am I interrupting something?"

John felt his cheeks burn, quickly shaking his head. "Not at all. Anna is in the shower."

Mrs. Patmore looked quite like she would like to make some kind of comment on that, but she contented herself with thrusting a package at him. Surprised, John grabbed hold of it. Something soft.

"What on earth is it?" he asked.

"Sandwiches and a bit of cake," she replied. "There were leftover things from the picnic basket. Daisy, Ivy, and I are distributing them all. We can't very well starve all night, no matter what Mr. Carson might say. It's not much, but it'll have to do until breakfast."

"So Mr. Carson doesn't know that you're stealing about the hotel like assassins?" he joked, but he was touched that the cook would defy the butler and feed them anyway. Not that it was surprising. Mrs. Patmore was generally a law unto herself.

The cook clucked. "Are you going to give me away?"

"Certainly not. I'd be afraid of bringing on a month of semolina."

"Eh, you cheeky beggar. Take these before I change my mind."

John chuckled. "Thank you, Mrs. Patmore. Really." He smiled and watched the cook walk away before withdrawing and closing the door behind him.

He found Anna standing in the bathroom doorway, clutching a towel to her chest. He forced his eyes away from the shy bit of cleavage that was visible where her towel began. Her hair was plastered to her head, little droplets pattering onto the floor.

"Mr. Bates, were you flirting with another woman?" she asked as she crossed the room to the fire, standing before it while she towelled herself off. John felt the sudden urge to look away, wanting to give her privacy. He placed the packet down on the tiny little table squashed into one of the corners of the room, moving to pull the curtains across.

"Never, my darling," he replied automatically, and the image of Green billowed up in front of his eyes, blocking out everything. Sneering. Eyes dancing. Eyes that whispered what he had done. _Everything_ he had done. John clenched his fists until he felt pain in his palms, his nails digging deep. Talk of flirting was too soon, even now. Green had flirted with Anna. And then he had taken what wasn't his, had fractured their relationship until it had hung on by the thinnest of sinewy threads. He heard the rustle of Anna's clothing. He had to get out, just for a little while. Needed the time to collect himself, to shield Anna from the shadows in his eyes.

Abruptly, he limped across the room, careful not to catch Anna's gaze. It didn't make him invisible to her, however; she reached out a hand to catch his arm as he passed.

"John?"

"I need a shower," he said quickly. "And my clothes need time to dry."

Thankfully, she did not try to stop him when he disentangled himself from her, and he sighed with relief when the bathroom door was shut tight behind him. He leant against it for several seconds, eyes closed, listening to the harsh sound of his breathing. Then, with mechanical actions, he stripped down to nothing and started to fiddle with the shower, trying to work out how it functioned. When the water spurted in a steady stream, he stepped under it, back bowed to accommodate his frame. It made for an uncomfortable experience, but it was enough to distract him for a few minutes.

Not long enough. He was a brooder and brooded when alone. Yet another one of his flaws thrown into harsh light. Try as he might, he could not stop his mind from lingering over the things that had happened.

Why? Why was he unable to move past it? He had thought he was doing better, but today seemed to be throwing up just how far it was that he had to go. Perhaps it was Anna. He had not seen her so vibrant in so long. She had been confined to a shadow, a wispy spectre of the person that she had been before. Sometimes, he had almost forgotten, had accepted this new Anna as his. Seeing her now—coming _alive_—only made the loss more poignant. All the harder to bear.

And the ticket. The bloody ticket. Even dead, the bastard couldn't leave them alone to build new lives. He was there, in every aspect.

John closed his eyes and dunked his head under the flowing water, scouring his fingers through his hair until his scalp burned. The pain felt good. He reached for the soap that Anna had left behind and scrubbed with the wet handkerchief that was acting as their sorry excuse for a wash cloth. He took his time, savouring the heat.

The bathroom door opened.

His eyes shot open at once. Anna entered, dressed only in her shift, hair still loose and damp. The material clung around the top and he felt a tightening low down. He turned around quickly on the pretence of checking the temperature gauge.

But Anna knew him too well.

"You don't have to do that," she said quietly. "It's nothing that I haven't seen before."

He burned in the heat of the water, keeping faced away from her anyway.

She tutted, but thankfully made no comment. "I'm just going to take your clothes and put them by the fire. Hopefully your underthings won't take too long to dry. Shall I bring them back to you?"

Managing a feeble quirk of the lips, he said, "Do you want me to stay in here until they're ready?"

"Of course I don't. You can come out whenever you want."

"I won't be wearing any clothes."

"I've seen you in that state plenty of times before, Mr. Bates." She grinned at him. "And I have to say that I enjoy the view."

She swished out of the room, leaving him to blush like a damn schoolboy.

* * *

He towelled his hair dry before making a start on the rest of his body, ending with it clutched to his waist. He lingered for a few minutes longer, shy about moving back into the hotel room wearing nothing else. He had no idea how long it would take his clothes to dry, but he hoped it wouldn't be too long. It was a horrible, lamentable fact that he still had qualms about being naked in front of his wife. For now, the towel would have to be sufficient. He creaked open the door and stepped outside.

Anna lay back against the double bed, arms crossed above her head. For a moment he thought she was asleep, but then she shifted.

"Thought you'd got lost in there," she murmured.

"Not quite." He padded over to the fire to check on the progress of his underthings. Not dry just yet, but not far off. He stood awkwardly for a moment, wondering where he should go.

Anna made the decision for him, sitting up on her elbows. "John, come here. Lay with me."

He couldn't very well deny her that, and slipped onto the bed beside her. She rolled over and moulded herself to his side, pressing a kiss to the curve of his shoulder and humming in appreciation when she inhaled. Her arm came up around him, mooring them together. He tried to relax the tension in his body, find the easiness that had always been there before.

Anna didn't seem to notice his reluctance. She nudged her knee into the side of his left leg, twining round it like a snaking vine.

"You know," she commented, "I've never really noticed how beautiful the sunlight is before."

It was true. It had mellowed in the dusky five o'clock, but still sent little spots bursting forth. It hit random points in their room through the chink in the curtains, spilling everywhere like an artist's paint. Coupled with the orange light cast off by the fire, it was a beautiful sight. Tiny dots shivered on Anna's pale arm.

"It is beautiful," he agreed, but it was nothing compared to her. The calm water of her blue eyes. The little slope of her nose. The strong curve of her jaw. Those lips. The features crafted by a master's hand.

"I think it's because we've never had the time to appreciate it like this before," she said. "We've always been so busy working, or getting ready to go back to work. We've never had the peace to just lie like this and observe. I wish we could do it more often."

"Maybe we can, back at home." He turned his head towards her slightly. "If it's something that you want to do, I'll make more of an effort."

A little frown wrinkled her forehead. "John, you don't have to take it upon yourself to make a special effort every time I say something."

But how he did. After the way he had failed her, he could do nothing less. It would never, ever be enough, but it was all he had now.

They fell silent for a little while. John concentrated on the swell of her breasts against his side, the soft breeze of her breath against his neck. He wanted to move to retrieve his shorts, make himself feel less vulnerable, but he didn't have the heart to tell Anna to move.

She was the first one to speak, propping her chin against his shoulder. "What should we do?"

"Hmm?"

She shifted again, moving to hover over him on one elbow. "We're confined to our room for the whole evening. It's not like we can go out and see the sights. There must be something we can do to pass the time." The way that her hand pressed low on his stomach let him know precisely what she had in mind.

"Are you sure?" His words came out strangled as she moved to press her lips against his cheek.

"Quite sure." There was a bite of something he couldn't quite place in her voice, but there was no time to try to contemplate it as she shifted properly, rising up on her knees and pulling her shift over her head. He couldn't hold back a groan as she arched above him wearing absolutely nothing, stomach hollowed, breasts heavy. She swung herself over him, arms extended, their lower halves just shy of touching. The sunshine poured in, her skin melted gold. He wanted so desperately to kiss her, to touch her, but he forced his palms flat against the bed sheets. Their lovemaking was on her terms. This wasn't the first time since, but it was important to him that she should feel comfortable. She gave directions, he followed them. It was a different kind of normal to the one that they had enjoyed so much before, but it worked.

Anna seemed to realise that he was waiting for her to take the lead, for she began to lower herself onto her forearms. Her mouth sought his, but all he could focus on was the pressure in their lower halves as they pressed together, the flimsy towel the only barrier between them. The silk of her calves pressed against his. His eyes rolled slightly. Her tongue plundered, claimed. He drowned in her, in the weight of her body, in the smell of her skin. She lifted his hand, trailed it from her ribs to her thighs. His eyes rolled fully, and he stopped breathing when she lifted herself slightly to press his hand against her. Her spare hand moved to yank the towel out of the way.

"Touch me," she breathed. She pressed his hand fully against her, and he lost himself in the rhythm of her body.

Soon, she claimed him entirely.

* * *

John's chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath. His limbs melted into the warm mattress. Anna lay above him, her entire body tangled around his. Her weight was delicious, and he relished the heat of her skin. Her hair tickled him as she shifted, her own gasps for breath filling the air. He tightened his hold on her and closed his eyes, trying to memorise the feel of her before she shifted from him and made them two separate people once more.

All too soon, she rose up on shaking limbs, hissing at the loss of contact. In the next moment she collapsed onto the bed beside him, snuggling up to his side once more. John cinched his arm tight around her, moving to press a kiss against her sweaty temple.

"I love you," he murmured.

"Love you too." She sounded sleepy, and for a few minutes he thought she had drifted off as he basked in the afterglow. His skin still sparked as it brushed against hers, and he felt unbidden tears behind his eyelids. How he had missed the curve of her body on all of those long, hard nights. For a time he had wondered if they would ever find their way out of that darkness. But they were here, against insurmountable odds. Still clinging on.

She stirred again, leaving a phantom kiss against his clavicle.

"You know," she said, "we're alone here."

"I should hope so, after that," he said. "Mr. Carson is already laying eggs about us sharing a room. If he knew about this…"

Her little palm smoothed over his chest, her fingers teasing at the hair. "No, I'm not talking about that."

"Then what?"

She sighed and began to sit up. He turned towards her. He thought she might reach for her shift again now, but she remained where she was, the dying light of day grasping at her naked body. She chewed at her lip for a moment before speaking.

"You said we had something to discuss when we got back to London."

"I did."

"So let's talk about it now."

"But we're not in London." He tried to keep his tone light and teasing, but it came out closed.

"I should imagine that that makes it better. There's no one to overhear or disturb us."

"Do we really need to spoil a nice evening together with such talk?"

"You were prepared to ruin it in London. And you're not enjoying it tonight."

"What?" Now he sat up to mirror her. "How can you say that?"

"You're tense. You've been awkward around me ever since entering this room. You wouldn't have pushed to make love if I hadn't wanted to."

"That's not fair."

"But it's the truth, isn't it? And why will this conversation ruin the night? What's so horrible about it that it's going to ruin something?"

John took a deep breath, turning away from her. The warm afterglow had evaporated, leaving only cold reality in its wake. He pushed off the edge of the bed and crossed the room to the fire, throwing on a couple of extra logs and feeling his shorts. They had dried, and he slipped them on gratefully. He felt less exposed now. Slowly, he turned back to Anna.

She was staring at him with that same frown creasing her forehead. She was still naked, but had curled herself up, hiding herself from him.

"Whatever it is, John, I need to know," she said softly. "You promised me: no more secrets."

The words were a spear to his heart, and he sank onto the edge of the bed, rubbing a hand ruefully through his hair. "All right."

He couldn't do her the disservice of not looking at her while he told her the truth, so he shuffled back onto the bed, rolling onto his side so that he could face her. "There's a reason why I was annoyed that you gave away my coat without asking permission."

It was quite clear from the widening of Anna's eyes that that had been the last thing she had anticipated. "The coat? What's that got to do with anything?"

He took a deep breath. "It has everything to do with it. And…and what happened to you."

The fear veined her voice like poison. "You're not making any sense. W-What happened to me…?"

"There was a ticket to London in the pocket. From last year."

"A ticket to London…?" It took several seconds to register, but he saw with agony the way that she put the pieces together. Her little rush of breath shattered his heart. "No, John. You didn't. Tell me you didn't. Oh God, oh God…!"

She was almost hyperventilating by the end of her speech, and she scrabbled back on the bed, almost as if to put as much space between them as possible. And there it was, back in her eyes: doubt. She doubted him again. She had gone so long believing in him unwaveringly even when others would have turned their backs on him. It had killed a piece of him to see it there in the days and weeks after Green's death. But, slowly, it had left her eyes.

And now it was back and it hurt more than ever.

He had to put a stop to it before it destroyed any more of his soul. "I didn't," he said quickly.

"You…didn't?"

"No. I swear to you, Anna."

He could see that she was struggling to make sense of it all. She looked so vulnerable, naked and small in front of him. "Then why are you telling me this? What has it got to do with anything?"

John sighed heavily, sitting himself down on the edge of the bed. He patted the space beside him, eyes beseeching her closer. Thankfully, she did not reject him, but her eyes still held lingering traces of mistrust. He tried to look past them, searching for the embers of devotion.

"I'm telling you," he said, "because Mrs. Hughes found the ticket."

Anna's tone was fearful. "What?"

"She looked through the pockets and found it. And she showed it to Lady Mary."

"L-Lady Mary?" Anna was beginning to get hysterical. "Why, what's she going to do?"

"I don't know. Mrs. Hughes doesn't know. But she told me about it today, and I explained everything to her. She's going to see Lady Mary about it tomorrow."

"But what if tomorrow's too late? What if she rings the police tonight? What if they're waiting for you at the train station? Oh, God!"

"Calm down," he told her firmly.

But she shook her head, her breath coming in sharp little pants. She was panicking. Unnerved himself now, he took hold of her shoulders and brought her head down to the crook of his neck, encircling his arms tight around her back and holding her to him. He felt the tension leave her muscles just slightly, and she buried her head deeper into his embrace, breathing in his scent. It was a relief to not have her pull away from him.

"Listen to me, Anna," he said, speaking in low, soothing tones. "Even if any of that did happen tomorrow, it wouldn't matter."

"Of course it would!" she choked into his neck.

"No, it wouldn't. I have alibis. I was with people the entire day. Nothing could pin me there."

"Truly?"

"Truly. Now calm down, my darling, and I'll explain the whole thing to you."

She nodded against him, and they sat there quietly for several minutes while she gathered herself together. When she was ready, she pushed away from him, pressing a sticky kiss to his cheek and offering him a watery smile. He took her hand within his own.

"I know it was him," he said quietly. "The one who…who did it."

He could tell that she knew it was futile to deny it any longer. Slowly, she nodded.

"I knew from the moment I found out. Mrs. Hughes swore it wasn't, but I didn't believe her. And I didn't believe you. I know you, Anna. You couldn't look me in the eye when you denied it."

"I did it to protect you," she protested.

"I'm not contesting that, my darling. I know what you were afraid of. You were frightened that I'd do something stupid."

"I couldn't have borne it if you'd hanged," she whispered. "I couldn't have gone on without you."

He shivered at the thought. He'd been close to handing in his notice and going without even saying goodbye. What would she have done? It did not bear thinking of. "All the same, I knew it was him."

"And I knew that you knew," she admitted. "I can read you too, John. The look in your eyes whenever you saw him…"

He wouldn't apologise for the murderous thoughts he'd had. He was sorry that Anna had seen them in his eyes, but to see Green's sickly, smirking face across the table, goading, holding it over them, had been too much to handle. Before, he had fantasised about Anna, her smile and her eyes and her laugh. Sometimes less innocent thoughts. But those had transformed into fantasies of Green. Every night he died, in whatever exquisite way John could dream up. And now he was dead. Not as painfully as he had wanted—nothing could have made up for what the bastard had put Anna through—but he could never hurt her again.

Just haunt her as a vengeful ghost.

"I thought about it," he continued. "I won't deny it. I thought about seeking him out and making him pay."

"Is that why you bought the ticket to London?" Her voice was small. "Is that what you were really planning?"

Honesty was the only way forward now. "I contemplated it. But it wasn't the reason why I went to London that day."

"Then why?"

"First off, I was worried about you being in the same city as him. I failed you last time. I didn't want to do it again."

"So you followed me around?"

He shook his head. "I wanted to. But no. I had other business."

"You're not making any sense."

"My mother's house, Anna."

"Your…your mother's house?"

"Yes. I know it's still in your name, but I was scoping the market, seeing if there would be any interest in buyers. I had a letter from Gwen. She said that she wanted to see it."

"Gwen!?" Anna looked as if she was having difficulty processing it all. "Since when were you in contact with Gwen without me knowing? And why _would_ you be doing any of this without my knowledge?"

"I was thinking of our hotel," he said. "Selling the house would give us enough to invest in a property, and we'd still have our savings put by for a rainy day. I didn't want to mention any of it to you until I was certain that there was some hope to it. Or that it was even something that you still wanted."

"But how come you didn't mention this months ago?"

"There were a few reasons. Most importantly, I saw the way you looked at me after you found out, Anna. You were accusing me. How could I talk to you after that? It was easier to let you begin to believe that I really had spent the day in York. And Gwen and her husband needed to get their funds together. I wasn't in a particular rush. They've been renting in London so it's taken them longer to sort out their finances."

He expected her to be relieved that he hadn't murdered that animal, so he was surprised to see the deep lines of anger. "And just when were you planning on telling me any of this? That you're ordering our life without giving me any say in the matter?"

"It wasn't supposed to be like that," he protested.

"Oh? You're having secret correspondence with someone who was supposed to be my friend and you didn't even tell me?"

"I told you, it was just an idea. We've not talked about the hotel in so long that I wondered if it was something we were still headed towards. I wanted to have everything sorted before I broached the subject."

"Very clever of you. What if I didn't want things to change? What would happen to Gwen then?"

"She would find somewhere else. She said she completely understood. And just because we could have the funding doesn't mean we'd have to move right away. We'd need time to properly train replacements. We could be looking for a property alongside that."

"So you were planning on telling me when Gwen had the finances sorted, and not before." Her voice was still clipped and hard.

"I didn't want you to be disappointed if it never materialised."

"But you've kept this from me for a whole _year_."

"I thought you'd be pleased," he muttered.

"I'm pleased that you didn't kill that…that snake. You once told me that once you start on that road of damning people to hell then there's no way off it. I won't deny that I hated him and his very existence, but I didn't want that to consume you. This is about more than that, though. I'm angry because you've kept such an important thing a secret from me for all that time. I should have been part of this decision, John. It's not for you alone to decide our future. You can't just let me in on things when you think it will suit me. Maybe we will be disappointed, but it's a disappointment to share together, as husband and wife. I said no more secrets, and I meant it."

He nodded in acceptance of her words. "I'm sorry, Anna. I thought I was doing the right thing."

"When will we hear about Gwen?"

"I'm not sure. She sent a letter a few weeks ago saying that they were almost ready. Peter, her husband, has just gained a promotion, so they'll be better off financially."

Anna nodded resolutely. "Then we'll wait together."

"I do love you, you know," he said. His heart contracted in his chest for the feisty, strong woman in front of him. He had not seen that spark of her personality in so long. He couldn't be too disheartened by her chastising him for being a fool. It meant that she was almost back to him. Not the same as before, but still resilient and passionate. Still his, after everything.

"I love you too." He was pleased to hear no hesitation in her voice.

"Can you forgive me?"

"I can," she said, "if you'll hold me."

That was an easy enough request to accommodate. Slowly, he slid his arms around her, bringing her closer to his chest. She hooked her arms around him and buried her head into the side of his neck, relaxing completely. Thank God she wasn't angry enough to reject him.

"Let's lie down," he murmured. She followed him easily as he sank back into the mattress, nestling herself deeper into his embrace. She didn't appear to want to talk anymore, and he was content to just hold her, soaking in the silk of her naked flesh against his. He felt his eyelids fluttering after a while. The heat of the room coupled with the heat of her body was doing wonderful things to him. Anna was already asleep, he could tell in the cadence of her breathing. He kissed her hair and followed her down.


	3. The Shores of the Soul

**A/N:** To the guest reviewer who asked about _Feeling Special_, since I can't reply to you personally: I decided to take down the majority of my smut fics a while back now, and I don't post them publicly anymore. I'm really sorry about that.

* * *

_3\. The Shores of the Soul_

John woke with a start. It took several seconds to register that Anna was no longer in his arms. Panicking, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, heart battering against his ribs.

Anna sat at the little table, legs tucked up beneath her. She'd replaced her shift, though her hair still cascaded down her back in messy tendrils.

"There you are," he breathed, relief flowing over him.

"Where else would I be?" she asked. "It's not like I can leave the room."

He didn't want her to know how much he worried when she wasn't in his sight. It would do neither of them any good. "I was expecting to see your lovely face as soon as I woke, that's all."

"I was hungry," she confessed. "But I didn't want to disturb you. So I slipped away."

It was only then that he realised that she had a pile of sandwiches in front of her, coupled with a little flask of water. She offered him a sheepish grin.

"I have saved you some, honest," she said. "But I couldn't wait a minute longer."

John slid to the end of the bed, ruffling his hand through his hair. "What time is it?"

"Just gone nine."

"_Nine_?" Christ, he'd slept away almost four hours.

"You were sleeping like a babe," she teased. "I couldn't disturb you. You looked so adorable."

"I'm fairly sure babies don't snore," he commented dryly as he reached for his undershorts and pulled them on, then crossed the room for his undershirt. Feeling more presentable, he padded over to the table and squeezed himself into the seat opposite her.

"Doesn't take away from your adorableness," she countered. "I don't often get to watch you sleep."

"Thank heavens for that."

"You can drop that act right now, Mr. Bates. You're always waxing poetic about the way I look when I sleep."

"Yes, but you are a vision. I'm a tired old man with a limp."

"Oh, be quiet before I smack you."

He very much wanted to lean across the table to kiss her pout away, but contented himself with reaching for a sandwich. There weren't many left, but he couldn't mind. Anna was finally beginning to fill out again, her skin no longer like paper over her bones. She continued to wolf her portion down as John started more demurely, never taking his eyes from her.

"What?" she said at last. "Have I got something on my face?"

"No. I'm just thinking."

"I think we've established that from now on you don't do any thinking, John. Leave that to me."

He chuckled. "Yes, ma'am."

"What _were_ you thinking?"

"Only about you. Only that I love you. I hope you know that I only ever hid the truth from you because I was trying to do the right thing."

"Next time, let me be the judge of that."

"I will. I promise."

Nothing more was said for a while as they carried on eating, sharing the flask of water between them, contemplating their view of the sea in the dusky grey light. The sun was gone for another day.

Eventually, however, Anna did break the silence. "John?"

His gaze found hers, and he was surprised by the trepidation in her eyes. "What's wrong?"

She lowered hers, dusting crumbs into the empty brown packet. "I told you off earlier about the importance of honesty, but I've not been as honest with you as I should have been."

"What do you mean?" Ice gathered in the centre of his heart, freezing it mid-beat. Had she not meant it when she'd said that she'd forgiven him?

"It's about the two of us."

"Then I simply must know now. It doesn't matter what it is." What was she trying to do to him? He hadn't felt this kind of disquiet in a while, not even with their earlier conversation.

For long moments, she didn't move. But, taking a fortifying breath, she looked him square in the face. "I need some things to change between us, John."

"Things? What kind of things?"

"Our lovemaking." It was issued in a whisper, and the ice spread to every inch of his body.

"I knew it," he said, agonised. "You've been pushing yourself too hard."

"John—"

"There's no need to be nervous, my darling. I won't push you. You should know that. I'm perfectly happy just holding you at night. I don't need that in my life. I love you. Nothing else matters."

"John—"

He hated himself more with every passing second. He had allowed her to push herself into it. He should have stopped her. If she'd been going through it just to please him…well, he would never forgive himself. He didn't want her to associate lovemaking with the trauma she had been through for the rest of her life. "I'm so sorry if I ever—"

"_John!"_

Anna's exasperated shout broke through his rambling, and he stopped short, blinking at her. Her cheeks were rosy, but there was steel behind her eyes.

"Are you quite done?" she asked.

Mutely, he nodded, not knowing what else to do.

"Good," she said. "Because if you had listened instead of blaming yourself immediately, you would have realised that you'd jumped to completely the wrong conclusion."

"What? What else can you possibly mean if not that you don't want to refrain for a while?"

"I want…I want you to take charge again."

John blinked in the aftermath of her confession, wrinkling his brow. "I don't understand. I thought you liked being in control?"

"I do. And you have no idea how grateful I've been to you, not pushing me and letting me set the pace. But I'm ready for more now."

Despite his best efforts, fear slithered through his veins, lacing them with its poison. He realised that he could have dealt with her telling him that she wanted to refrain for a while. But passing the responsibility back to him…

There must have been something in his face, for Anna reached across the table to rest her hand against his.

"It's time," she continued softly. "We may have moved forward, but I will not let what we've been through dictate the way we live our life any longer. I want you to kiss me when the urge overcomes you, to explore me how you want when we're together. You've held yourself back for so long, but I don't want you to anymore. I want this to be a two way thing. If we continue on as we are, then the past is still beating us. I won't let it. I won't let it take away everything that I love about our marriage."

"It's a frightening prospect," he admitted. "The last thing I want to do is scare you, or cause you to have a flashback—"

"All I know is that I trust you with all of my heart. You won't hurt me, I know that. There are some things that I know that I can't do, and maybe I never will be able to again, but I won't let it take you from me. Not again."

The fire in her eyes was sincere. She squeezed his hand once then stood abruptly, rounding the table towards him. He had little time to react before she dropped herself down on his lap. She smiled encouragingly, sweeping the hair back from his forehead.

"It's all right," she said. "I want you to touch me how it feels natural. Follow your instincts."

Neither of them moved for several seconds. John slowly raised his hands, swallowing hard. It felt like he had sand scratching at his throat. But the feel of her warm, firm skin beneath his touch was heaven, and he pressed his face to her, drinking in every minute shift against him. She held him around the neck, fingers playing with the short hair at the nape. He listened to the rhythmic pulse of blood and raised his head.

"You are the most precious thing in my life," he told her. "You always will be."

She sent him another soft smile, and he hesitated for only a moment more before he leaned up to capture her mouth. He kept the pressure of his lips light and soft at first, to reassure himself more than her, and she moved hers in tandem with his. Bolstered by the little hums of pleasure that were escaping her, he grew bolder, his tongue darting out to swipe against her lips, his hands kneading the skin of her back. She opened up at once, and he lost himself in the taste of her.

All too soon, she pulled away from him, her eyes hotter than irons against his skin.

"Take me to bed," she breathed, teeth grazing his earlobe.

He shuddered at the husky quality of her voice. She wriggled from his lap after one last kiss, holding out her hand. He took it, trying to ignore the way that his shook. They crossed the room together. Anna sank onto the bed, pulling him with her. He settled himself beside her, twisting so that he was facing her. Her hands found the hem of his undershirt, tugging it up.

"Take it off," she begged.

He allowed her to raise it up over his head, and he slowly moved to reciprocate the action with her shift. She was still wearing nothing underneath it, and he could not stifle his moan of appreciation as she was laid bare to him once more. He kept his touch feather light as he brushed against her breast, closing his eyes against her breathy groan. Her hand found the back of his head and pushed him closer. His mouth touched her. Salty-sweet skin. A barrier inside him had been broken, and every emotion rushed free like a tidal wave. His hands explored her curves, urged on by the encouraging plea in her voice, his mouth tasting every bit of her that he could.

He slid lower.

She arched, undulated.

"Yes," she breathed. "Oh, yes."

He braced his hands against the crooks of her knees, and lost himself in her.

* * *

Anna was still trembling as she pressed against his side. He stroked a hand down her back, sticky now with sweat. Her hot breath hit his collar at distorted intervals as she struggled to regulate it.

John was no less affected. He buried his nose in the crown of her head and inhaled deeply, relishing the musk of their lovemaking blanketed over her skin.

"Thank you," she murmured against his collar, kissing him lightly there.

"Thank _you_," he countered. He had needed that push. It had been incredible, to explore Anna's body, more tentatively than he might have at one time, but still with the memory of how they had been before. That she had trusted him enough to let him have the control had been exhilarating, and he had worshipped every inch of her skin with his hands and mouth with a renewed determination to please her. Her thrashing and bucking and moaning had been his own personal symphony. She had tried to muffle her sounds in her pillow, but had been unable to mask them all, and he had taken his own sweet joy from them.

In the present, Anna curled herself further into his embrace, her arm across his front, anchoring them together.

"I wonder how his lordship and Lady Mary are coping without us?" she wondered.

He chuckled. "I'm sure Lady Mary is going spare, trying to plait her own hair. I think his lordship will be faring much better. He has her ladyship to help him undress after all. Perhaps I'll find myself out of a job tomorrow."

"Don't be crude," she scolded, but she was smiling.

He ducked his head. "All right."

More silence settled over them for a few moments.

"I'm glad we got stranded today," she said sleepily. "I think we needed it."

"You're right," he agreed. He wasn't naïve enough to think that everything would miraculously be sorted, but they were on the right path. There was hope for them yet. "And I really will try harder from now on."

"John, I've already told you, you don't have to. It's not going to change anything. I just need you as you are. I just need you to be my husband."

"There are still things I need to work on. Today, at the beach…"

"Yes?" she prompted, etching their initials above his heart. He took a breath.

"In the water, when you and I were roughhousing…"

"…You started to think about it again," she finished. "John, you have to stop thinking that way."

"I know. I really will try. I do think tonight has helped."

"I was having fun with you, that's the honest truth. I don't spend every waking moment dwelling on it. Not anymore. The present is too important for that."

He was beginning to realise just how true her words were. He brought her hand to his mouth, kissing her fingertips.

"I know you're a brooder," she continued. "_My_ brooder. But we've both spent enough time brooding. We're worth more than that." She shot him a shy grin. "Perhaps we'll be able to roughhouse again one day."

He wasn't truly sure whether she would ever be ready for that. That grin left no room for misinterpreting what she had been thinking, but tussling in the sea was very different to the kind she had in mind. Yet he was beginning to realise that it was up to Anna to make her own decisions, not for him to do it for her. If something felt wrong, she would tell him. He just had to trust her. And if she never expressed any discomfort over it again…well, it made them the victors.

Anna stifled a yawn, burrowing her head into his shoulder. He winced at the bite of her jawline. "Anyway, I'm worn out."

"I wonder why?" he rasped, and she giggled, an open, free sound. "Go to sleep, my love. An early night is a luxury that we've never been afforded before. Take advantage of it."

She nodded, and said no more. It wasn't long before her snores filled the little room. He smiled, reaching down for the blanket that was strewn over the end of the bed and brought it over their bodies. It wasn't quite a duvet, but it was better than nothing.

The old clock on the wall read just gone half past ten. An early night indeed. John held his wife tighter and closed his eyes.

* * *

A knock resounded through the room. And again. And again.

John grunted and buried his face further into Anna's hair without opening his eyes. In some hazy part of his brain he realised that they had shifted position in the night to their natural one, with him curled around his wife's smaller body. The blanket was somewhere around their waists, and the chill of the morning air burrowed into his bones.

The knocking sounded once more.

Cursing sleepily, John pushed himself up on a forearm. He was briefly disorientated by the unfamiliar surroundings, the quaint pictures on the wall and the patterned wallpaper. Nothing like his room back in London. Of course, Anna was never in his room at London.

"Anna, Mr. Bates, are you awake?"

At the sound of Mrs. Hughes' voice, the events of the last twenty four hours came flooding back to John. Cursing more loudly, he disentangled himself from Anna and stumbled across the floor in search of his clothes.

"Hello?"

"One minute!" he panted, trying to wrestle into his undershirt. Somehow, Anna was still slumbering on. She always slept like a log. Yanking his trousers up, he hurried across to the door and opened it just a crack, mindful of the fact that his wife slept stark naked under a blanket that did little to preserve her modesty.

Mrs. Hughes stood before him, eyebrows raised.

"There you are!" she exclaimed.

"Is there something I can help you with, Mrs. Hughes?" he asked politely.

"I came to see where you were. Everyone else is downstairs getting breakfast, and Mr. Carson is a little on edge that you haven't made an appearance yet." She paused, her eyes roving over him. He suddenly felt very self-conscious. "Aren't you _dressed_ yet?"

"I'm in the middle of it," he muttered, seeing no other explanation but the truth.

"And where's Anna?"

"Still asleep."

"Well, you're going to have to get her up. Mr. Carson will have kittens if you're not downstairs in the next ten minutes."

"We'll be there. Thank you, Mrs. Hughes."

The housekeeper shook her head, and he closed the door when she turned away. His cheeks burned, but he couldn't help smiling at the sight of his wife sprawled in such a languid fashion across the sheets. He was loath to disturb her, but he had little choice in the matter. Wincing, he knelt down next to the bed and ran the backs of his fingers down over the soft skin of her side.

"Anna," he murmured, "Anna, darling, wake up."

She fussed in her sleep and tried to wriggle away from the pressure of his fingers, but he followed her, coaxing her back into reality. Two sleepy eyes blinked at him.

"John?" she mumbled. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, my darling. Mrs. Hughes has just paid us a visit. It's time for breakfast."

"Breakfast?" she repeated through a yawn. "What time is it?"

That was a good point; in his haste, he had forgotten to look at the clock. He was surprised to see that it was ten past eight.

"I don't remember the last time I had a sleep as good as that," he marvelled as Anna rubbed the heel of her palm over her eyes.

"You must have been worn out," she said through a yawn. "Unfortunately, I still haven't slept until I woke up natural."

"One day," he promised her. "Maybe sooner than you think."

She smiled at him, rolling reluctantly from the bed. John crossed the room to retrieve his shirt, glad that their things had dried out completely overnight before the fire had died. Anna slipped into her clothes with practised ease, and then frowned at the way that her tangled mess of hair just wouldn't behave. The sight of the errant curls made John's toes curl pleasantly, but he tried not to stare. There was no time for any distractions.

"It's no good," Anna complained. "It just won't stay in." She valiantly tried to tame one errant strand, only for it to fall stubbornly back into place.

"I think it looks beautiful," he growled. "Leave it."

"Mr. Carson won't be very pleased. But there's nothing I can do about it. I didn't bring a brush with me."

"None of us are going to look particularly smart. We don't have pomade."

"You won't find me complaining," she purred, her gaze sweeping over him. "Although I am rather disappointed that the others are going to see the sight that's always been reserved for me." She tried to smooth his hair back, but it flopped over his forehead a second later. He huffed, but there was nothing that could be done about it. He consoled himself with the fact that every man would be facing the same problem he was. At least the women could hide their untamed hair under their hats.

He was still disappointed to see Anna's dishevelled hair hidden, but pushed it to the back of his mind as she scooped up the rusty key. She cast one last longing look around before closing the door and locking it.

"I'll miss it here," she said wistfully.

John dipped under her hat to press a kiss to her cheek. "Perhaps we can come back again one day."

"I'd like that very much."

They held hands all the way down to breakfast.

* * *

They stood outside the hotel while Mr. Carson arranged the payment that would be forwarded to the owners by the Crawleys, basking in their last moments of relaxation before they were thrown back into the hectic routine of servitude. Anna kept her arm looped firmly through his, gazing round at the promenade with enjoyment. Watching her, John felt years lighter, as if the cross that had been bowing his back had been removed, as if he'd been granted a reprieve. Now there was hope in his life. He just had to learn to trust it again. Anna was doing well. He needed to stop treating her as though she was no better than she had been when he had first found out, thorned and unreachable. The last day had shown him that she was still strong. Still fractured in some places, but knitting herself back together. His Anna.

"We'll be ready to move on in a minute."

Mrs. Hughes' voice interrupted their peaceful silence, and they turned to greet her with smiles.

"How is Mr. Carson?" John asked. They had avoided him at breakfast, wary of how he would treat them. A few of the younger members of staff, Jimmy in the lead, had sniggered at their late arrival, but they had managed to control their blushing, sneaking a couple of the remaining slices of toast and a cup of tea each.

"Just about bearing up. I think he's taking this worse than the family."

They chuckled together for a few moments before Mrs. Hughes sobered.

"And the two of you had an agreeable evening?"

John blinked, sneaking a glance at Anna. She returned his mystified stare.

"Yes, thank you, Mrs. Hughes," she answered. "And how was your evening? Not too lonely, I hope?"

"Not at all. I had Mrs. Patmore for company."

John hid his smile. Mrs. Patmore never stopped talking once she got started.

"And she doesn't have any nasty habits, like snoring?" Anna teased.

"Oh, nothing like that. In fact, she wasn't the one who kept me awake."

"Someone else did?"

The housekeeper shot them a significant look, and it hit him full force. Another horrified glance at Anna let him know that she understood exactly what the housekeeper was hinting at too.

"Oh, God," Anna squeaked. "We're so sorry—"

"Please," Mrs. Hughes overrode quickly, "there's nothing to apologise for. I understand that you're husband and wife, and that you've missed each other terribly these past few weeks. I'm very glad that things between you are sorting themselves out."

"They are," Anna affirmed, still pink.

"Just be glad that Mrs. Patmore wasn't awake to hear you."

Perish the thought. John openly shuddered. The cook was not known for her tact.

"Anna!"

Daisy's cry was insistent. She and Ivy were standing together with a smug looking Jimmy.

Oh dear," Anna sighed. "I wonder what's wrong?"

"I think you should go and find out," said Mrs. Hughes. "If those two girls are falling out again…"

"I'll sort it," said Anna. In fact, she looked relieved to be able to escape the awkward situation. Mrs. Hughes was quick to continue speaking when she had gone out of earshot.

"So, did you tell her about the ticket?" she asked.

"I did," he said. "I told her everything. She wasn't very pleased at first, but we've sorted things out."

"Yes, I know," Mrs. Hughes commented dryly, causing him to blush to his roots and sorely wish for the floor to swallow him whole. "But I am glad all the same. Lord knows you deserve some happiness."

He watched Anna interacting with the two younger women, a little frown creasing her forehead, a sneaky curl bobbing by the side of her face where it had fallen loose from her bun.

"Yes," he said simply, "we do."

* * *

On the train back to London, they sat as close as propriety would allow, watching the scenery fly by. Everything seemed so much more beautiful to him. He noticed tawny fields that he had dismissed on the way, quaint little farmhouses that stood like jewels amidst the countryside.

No words could be exchanged, for they were sharing their compartment with the other senior members of staff, all of them squashed in together. But it wasn't the kind of silence that had plagued them for so many months, the silence of tortured miscommunication. No words were needed. Not now. They had said everything that needed to be said.

Now, they could truly look to the future.

_**Fin**_


End file.
